Thanks For Listening
by susieq666
Summary: A little one-shot. Set some five years in the future, a conversation between two friends, as they contemplate getting older.


THANKS FOR LISTENING

"Detective…" Horatio looked up as Frank Tripp eased himself into the booth. "Got you a beer. Is that right?"

"You know it is."

"It's ages since we had a drink together. You might have gone teetotal."

Frank snorted. "No chance!" He indicated his friend's coffee. "You haven't changed, I see."

Horatio shrugged. "I'm really off alcohol."

"You okay?"

"Absolutely fine."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Frank said, "You said you wanted to talk about something."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" Horatio sighed.

"Well, not if you've changed your mind. I'm happy to see you anyway."

"You see me most days."

"I meant off duty…"

"I know." He hesitated. "Frank, where do you see your life going?"

"Wow, big question! Are you serious?" He took a deep breath. "Well, I've got about three or four years before I need to retire… Or at least move to a fulltime desk job… I don't think I'm going to see a promotion now. I'm just sitting it out until I can spend time playing golf and seeing more of my family. And I have got a new-ish wife, haven't I? I kinda want to make it last this time. Does that answer you?"

"And you're happy with that?"

"Yes, I am. What's this about, Horatio?"

He looked down at his hands. "I'm thinking of retiring."

Frank contained his surprise. "Are they making you?"

"No, not yet. I've just had a physical, and they were surprisingly positive, considering I'm sixty-two." He chuckled. "Richard – you know, Doctor Richard – said I've got years in me yet. Maybe that's what made me think – could I actually face years more."

"So?"

"Oh, I don't know." Horatio took a sip of coffee before continuing. "I'm getting old, Frank. My knees are getting creaky. My back often hurts. I can't chase suspects anymore. I need glasses to read anything small…"

"Again… so? We all have a few aches and pains. You don't need to run after suspects. You've got your youngsters for that. As for glasses – most folk over sixty need reading glasses. What's the real reason?"

Horatio was silent for a while, then said quietly, "I'm beginning to hate the job."

This time, Frank was silent. The thought flashed through his mind that his friend didn't have much _except_ the job… He couldn't immediately think of anything to say.

But Horatio spoke again. "Everything that used to give me satisfaction just doesn't, anymore. It feels like every time I put a bad guy away, another appears. Like I'm losing a race."

"It's always been like that, pal… But every time you take one off the streets, it's one less. It's justice for someone."

"Do you still believe that?"

"Yes, I think I do." Frank regarded him sympathetically. "We have to, don't we? What'd be the point otherwise?"

"Exactly! Maybe I can't see a point…"

"I don't believe that. You've always been… I don't know… fanatical about getting justice."

"And what difference has it made?"

"Of course it's made a difference! You've helped hundreds of victims…"

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. But all I ever see is either bad guys, or victims. Not ordinary happy people."

Frank gave a cynical chuckle. "'Ordinary happy people'? What are they?"

"I'm not joking…"

"No, I know you're not. I don't know, Horatio… If you feel that badly about it all, maybe you should retire. Or change your job a bit."

"And do what?"

"What about the lab work? You enjoy that, don't you?"

"Sometimes. But I don't do that much now. It's mostly supervision and management."

They were both silent. Horatio finished his coffee. Frank signalled to a waitress for refills.

At last, Horatio murmured quietly, "I don't know what to do."

Frank sighed heavily. "This is not at all like you. Even when you've hated the bad guys, hated the crimes… you've never hated the job. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Far as I know."

"What about your team?"

"What about them?"

"Well… do they know how you feel?"

"Certainly not! And don't you say anything!"

"Of course I won't!" Frank retorted indignantly. "But… you've always called them your family… Don't you want to stay with them?"

"They've got their own lives. Calleigh's part-time now, and devoted to her kids – as she should be. Natalia's moved on, of course. Eric tells me he's thinking of getting married."

Frank chuckled. "About time."

Horatio smiled. "Yes. She's a lovely girl. He brought her along to meet me."

"Anyway, you've got family. You've got a son."

"Who has a pregnant partner, so not interested in his old man."

"God, you do sound sorry for yourself."

"I know. And I hate self-pity. It's pathetic really. My instincts tell me to leave. And I can afford to. But I also think I might regret it, and I sure as hell won't be able to come back."

They fell silent. Frank had no idea what to say. He was sure that Horatio wasn't himself, but if he'd just seen the department's medical staff, and they hadn't noticed anything… Mind, Horatio was nothing if not good at hiding things…

At last, he said, "If you weren't at work, what would you do all day?"

"God knows."

"I don't know what to say, Horatio. I mean, retirement's always on your mind, once you're our age. But you sound just miserable… Man, I've never heard you like this. How long has this been going on?"

"Disillusionment? A few months. Thinking about giving it up… only recently."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you'd regret it. If you had loads of hobbies, or friends… Sorry, I don't mean that like it sounds."

Horatio smiled. "It's a fair comment. I don't make friends at all easily."

"Do you still see your French lady?"

"Cecile? Yes, now and again." He hesitated, and seemed about to say something else, but simply added, "Yes, we're friends."

"No big romance then?"

He chuckled. "I think I'm past that sort of thing."

"Rubbish! Sixty-two is not 'past it'."

"What do you suggest? On-line dating?" Horatio's voice was scornful.

"No, of course not. Anyway, we're wandering off the subject - what you should do." Frank took a long drink, while he thought. "You want my opinion?"

"Of course."

"Well, I think, if you just walk out now, you'll regret it. I can think of a few things you might do… You could go back to doing more lab work, less front-line stuff. Let Eric chase the bad guys. Or you could look for another job – maybe help another state who are setting up a crime lab… I'm sure there are some – no, that would mean moving… Or you could take a sabbatical."

"Sabbatical?"

"Yeah, why not? Take six months… Travel. See how you get on, not being at work."

"You think they'd allow that?"

"Of course they will." Frank sounded more certain than he felt, wondering if such a request might merely push the department into retiring him. "You're one of their stars."

"Hardly. I've also stopped expecting a promotion. My… diplomatic skills have let me down too often."

"Still, I'm sure they'll let you."

"They might just tell me to get out." Horatio voiced Frank's own misgivings.

"You've got a contract, haven't you?"

"True."

Frank drained his beer. "Do you want to go and eat?"

"What about your new-ish wife? Isn't she expecting you?"

"She never expects me at a particular time. I'll give her a call. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm not that hungry."

Frank stood up, shaking his head. "How did I know you'd say that?"

* * *

As he drove to the chosen restaurant, Frank had time to think. He realised he couldn't think of a much worse fate for his friend than simply leaving. If he'd been as blunt as he usually was, he'd have told Horatio that he had nothing to care about except the crime lab. Lose that, and what did he have? He could envisage Horatio going into a drastic decline. Even more than he seemed to be doing now.

Friends they were, but their temperaments were completely different. Horatio, with his predisposition for soul-searching and melancholy. He, much more pragmatic – 'it is what it is'. And he'd lately found Lucy, whom he had made his third wife just over a year ago. Born optimist in the marriage stakes… He was sure his juniors thought him an insensitive curmudgeonly bastard, but they were young police officers, who needed to be kept in line. It was something of a façade. His fondness for Horatio, and his love for his wife and kids… that was the real him.

Horatio's only foray into marriage, with its disastrously tragic ending, seemed to have turned him against any further commitment. Frank had been glad when Horatio found a friend in Cecile, but, from his comments, it didn't sound like a lifetime partnership. But he admitted to himself that, even after their long association, he still didn't fully understand the complex character that was Horatio Caine.

* * *

They sat opposite each other again, as they waited for their food to arrive.

"Have you talked to anyone about how you feel?" Frank asked.

"I'm talking to you."

"Apart from me. Someone…" He hesitated. "…professional."

"A shrink, you mean? No, I haven't."

"Do you think you should?" Frank knew he was on dangerous ground. Horatio was well-known for shunning such things.

"No. If I talk to the department shrink, it'll go on my record. And what do I say? I'm sixty-two and I'm pissed off with the job?"

"You seem a bit more than 'pissed off', pal."

"I'm not about to jump off a bridge, if that's what you mean."

"I know that."

"I just want advice, Frank. Do I go or do I stay?"

"I've told you what I think. You stay, but you take a break."

They paused as a waitress brought their orders – Frank's steak and fries, Horatio's pasta.

"But," Frank continued, "I think you should talk to other people. Eric, maybe – you're tight, aren't you? And what about Cecile?"

He was surprised when Horatio laughed. "Did you know she was a shrink?"

Again, Frank had to contain his surprise. He suspected his friend got a perverse enjoyment out of dropping minor bombshells into conversations. "No, I didn't. Seems ideal, then."

"Mmm."

They ate in silence for a while.

"Or," Frank added, as he put his fork down, "you could talk to Doctor Richard, as you call him. You've known him ages…"

"He's still on PD's payroll though."

"And he's a doctor. Confidentiality, and all that."

"He might feel obliged to report it."

"Why should he? It's not as if you're not doing your job. He might give you ammunition to get time off. I dunno… depression… exhaustion…"

"I'm not."

"No? You're a stubborn sonofabitch, I know that."

"One of my finer qualities."

"If you say so." He watched as Horatio pushed his empty plate away. "See? You were hungry. Coffee?"

"Can we get tea? English tea?" He smiled. "Cecile's influence."

Frank ordered, then asked, "Has she still got that little dog?"

"Seb? Yes. Now _there's_ a stubborn sonofabitch."

"Is he?"

"He's too intelligent for his own good. Thinks too much."

Frank chuckled. "Him and you both. So what are you going to do?"

"Think about it some more."

"Promise me something. Don't go and give your notice in, not without talking to me."

"Okay. Promise."

Horatio sipped his tea. "Sorry I'm such poor company."

Frank dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It's what friends are for."

They finished their drinks in silence. As they rose to leave, Frank put a hand on Horatio's arm. "You going to be okay?"

He smiled. "I am, friend. Thanks for listening."

THE END


End file.
